Page 123 of Death on Gallows Path

“Puppet?” Zoley’s mouth went slack. “You did not. You’re—”

“I did.” The tyranny of Pammy’s secrets had festered and now their byproduct oozed from her. “You trailed along when my parents forced me to go to that backwater college in Georgia. But you became useful, sending the emails to that stuck-up bitch.”

Zoley pounced. “You got thrown out of school, too.”

“That was the whole idea.” Her tone added an unspoken, you idiot. “I came to recognize the utility of my puppet. My puppet who never once felt the strings. Not when I cut her out with Damon, then shoved her at Bryon. And not when I married Damon instead of her.”

Zoley smirked. “You might have married him, but I—”

Pammy’s smile pulled her lips back from her teeth. “And not when I pushed her to screw him so I could set up my future unimpeded—”

Zoley’s smirk faded.

“Damon was also a puppet,” I said quietly.

“A useful idiot with a feral instinct for fraud and fewer scruples than brains. Pulled in money and never noticed most of it went into accounts he knew nothing about.”

“Foreign accounts,” Clara murmured.

“If Zoley had kept his interest— But he tired of her quickly and with Damon making more and more mistakes, I had to accelerate the timeline. Got the dogs to set the guys against each other. Got her to set up Bryon, so he would have no income and be consumed by legal bills, leaving her with nothing.”

“Why you—”

No one heeded Zoley’s snarl.

“Go back to the dogs,” Clara demanded.

“They served their purpose. Dumped them.” She glanced at Zoley. “You’ve served your purpose, too.”

“Why you—” Zoley snarled again, surging toward Pammy.

Gracie and LuLu came to their feet, hesitating a beat as they assessed.

Me, too. Aided by a split-second warning of knowing Clara.

It was enough.

I shouted “Break” to the dogs as I threw as many of the stinky sprat treats at Pammy as I could dig out of the package. They hit her in the face, breaking her focus. The gun pointed upward.

Gracie and LuLu leaped forward.

“You deserted those dogs—”

Clara tried to tackle Pammy, but Gracie had already lunged. Not with bared teeth or a growl — Clara provided those.

LuLu wrapped her leash around Pammy’s legs and barked, while Gracie barreled into her chest, bringing her down, then stood on her with four feet.

Clara stomped on Pammy’s gun-holding hand with her heel.

That loosened her hold.

I wrenched the gun away.

Zoley stood with her hands over her ears against the din of barking, gabbling something. LuLu started jumping on her. Not with affection.

“I’ve got the gun, Clara,” I shouted. “Calling 911.”

Clara might have gotten in a blow or two on Pammy after my announcement, but I couldn’t be sure enough to make it part of my official statement.